Everyday life as a Domina

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I’m a heterosexual submissive woman who has always been simultaneously turned off and fascinated by submissive men, and I was hoping you could maybe shed some light on them, and why you’re attracted to them.

For me, I’m turned on when I see a man in all his glory, strong, powerful, and in control. It’s so hot knowing that he has that strength in him.

And it feels so secure knowing that he has everything. That he can handle everything. All I need to do is trust him and do what he says and everything will be alright.

I’m a strong woman. I love the quote “Don’t look for a princess in need of saving. Look for a queen willing to fight by your side.” I could never take a weak man seriously. I need a strong man. It takes a King to rule me. Nothing less.

I couldn’t imagine a relationship with a man who isn’t capable of handling me.

But I’ve talked to a couple of submissive men and I’m wondering if maybe I’m way off base here and there’s like this whole element I’m missing. Am I missing anything here?

What is it about submissive men that you find attractive? Why do you prefer them over a good Dominant man?

Haven’t you ever just wanted to relax and let someone else take the lead?

No.

No I have not.

I’m guessing you’re a new-ish reader. Welcome to the blog, and thank you for writing.

But I have to ask… Did you happen to notice those tabs there on the left? At the top of the side bar?

You want to know what I love about submissive men? That link is a good start.

As turned off as you are by submissive men, multiply that by a few thousand and you’ll begin to hold a candle to a fraction of how I feel about most Dominant men.

They don’t just turn me off. They literally repulse me. Whenever a guy starts to get all “Domly” with me, it makes my skin crawl. Even thinking about it makes me cringe.

Sounder once described a conversation with a Dom douchebag, who told him,”The king gets to fuck the queen, and all you get to do is lie at her feet.”

His response was, “Any weak, self-absorbed asshole can fuck someone. But to protect and serve a queen requires actual strength and fortitude.”

Now, don’t get me wrong. You’re into Dominant men. What turns me off to them probably turns you on. You and I are apparently on complete opposite sides of the spectrum.

And that’s fine. That’s the kind of man you want, that’s the kind of relationship you want, and more power to you. It’s all about what makes you happy. You seem to know what makes you happy, and that’s a good thing.

But you’ll have to forgive me for raising an eyebrow or two as I read this.

First of all, regarding weak men. There is nothing wrong with weak men. Not everyone can be a hero. Not everyone has that strength of spirit. I have loved my fair share of weak men, and there’s just something so guileless and trusting and vulnerable in the way they love. It’s unique to them, and they have their place. They’re beautiful, their weakness is beautiful.

But I know you don’t think all submissive men are weak (or that all weak men are submissive. I can list a terrifying number of weak “Doms”).

You’re a submissive and you claim you’re a strong person. I believe you. My reasons for believing you, despite the fact that I don’t know you, bear a post of their own, but for now, we’ll just simplify it and say I fully believe you are a strong person.

If you’re a submissive, and a strong person, why would you think that wouldn’t be true for a submissive man?

Have you read any of my posts describing my subs? They’re the strongest people I’ve ever met. The things they’ve endured, the things they’ve been through, the way they’ve come out the other side, stronger and harder, is awe-inspiring. All three of them have impressed and astounded me. They’re absolutely incredible, and I consider myself lucky to own them.

You talk about kings. My subs are the kings in my world. But they do not rule me. I rule them.

My world is like chess. The king doesn’t hold the power; the queen does. The game is won or lost by her decisions. The king lives or dies by her choices. She leads the army, she charges into battle, and she fiercely protects her king.

She’s brutal. And manipulative. And relentless. No one questions her. No one challenges her.

That’s my world. And it takes a strong man to handle me, to handle what I put them through, what I make them endure. I’m not gentle with my boys. And there have been many who simply couldn’t handle what I wanted.

Kazander, Steel, and Sounder are strong men who can handle me, can handle being owned by me and can handle being in a relationship with me.

That asshat Dom claimed he was a king, but he was just a little boy who wanted to boss someone around. And sadly, there are a great number of pricks like him. I could never respect a man like that. I could never take him seriously.

I love Sounder’s response to him. But that Dom wasn’t a king. Sounder is. He deserves every bit of the respect I feel for him. He has the strength and fortitude it takes to serve selflessly, to put someone else’s wants and needs before his own.

It’s like a conversation I had with Steel recently, about why I wasn’t actively looking to have penetrative PIV sex. Because anyone can fuck. But it takes a special kind of man to give me what I want, who can meet my depravity with eagerness, who can willingly follow me down that dark, twisted path.

Anyone can hold a woman down and fuck her. Dominant men and the people who like them are fine, and have every right to have what they want, have the relationship they want. But to me, there’s just nothing special about a Dominant man. They’re a dime a dozen. And I’ve only ever met one I could respect.

Submissive men are special. They’re incredible. They’re admirable and wonderful, and I could fill page after page with words about how much I love them.

My subs are the kings of my world, and they have the strength and fortitude necessary to serve me selflessly and follow me wholeheartedly.

I was invited to a FemDom dinner at Sadie’s the other night, and asked her if I could grab a couple of hypodermic needles from her. She opened up her massive box-o-sharp-shit and said, “You’re going to have to narrow it down. What are you going to use it for?”

“Punishment.”

She grinned — a grin Kazander says he’s seen too many times on my face, and I love seeing on hers. God, I fucking love that chick — and handed me four needles, still in their packaging.

“Oh wait,” she said, grabbing one more. “Take this one, too. If you really want to get your point across.”

I looked through the packaging at the needle inside and my jaw dropped. “What the fuck is this even used for?” I asked.

“You mean medically? I have no idea. It’s pretty, right?”

“Fuck yes it’s pretty!”

She gave me 4 mean needles (only 3 pictured) and one massive bitch of a needle, that I cannot wait to stick through a scrotum or cock.

So the next time I need to punish one of my boys, those things are coming out.

I had a few needles left over from Sounder’s play party, and decided it was time to try those out.

So last night, I paused the show we were watching and turned to Kazander.

“Is needle play still a hard limit?”

“It’s not a hard limit so much as a soft limit.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I’m willing to try it if it’ll turn you on.”

He says my whole face lit up at that point. “It’ll turn me on!”

So I pulled out the needles, gloves, and alcohol and practically tore his clothes off.

It didn’t matter that the needles were small, and it wasn’t going to cause him a lot of pain. It didn’t matter that it was going to be short-lived, and I would take the needles back out soon.

I just wanted to shove pointy things in him.

So I did.

And they look so pretty

And really, he handled it pretty well. Once I had all three in, I asked him how he was doing, and he said he was fine. It wasn’t something he enjoyed, but something he would tolerate for my enjoyment. And he’s willing to try staples and sutures, as well.

So I’m happy with that. That was a good night.

Then, tonight, I spent the evening with Sounder. He wasn’t feeling well, so we decided to skip the playing and sit on the couch, watching TV and having a couple drinks instead.

And I swear, that was my full intention.

But I pulled him close and wrapped my arm around him, and just started running my fingers across his arm, shoulder, and chest. And when I felt his nipple, nice and hard, through his shirt, I couldn’t help but hurt it.

It wasn’t even really a conscious decision. I pulled him close because I like having him close. There was nothing nefarious there. It was a simple, innocent desire to cuddle. I ran my fingers across his body because that’s a habit of mine.

Still innocent.

Even the first few seconds that I teased his nipple, it wasn’t with any sort of intention. But then, with that first little gasp of his, the sadist in me sprang to fucking life and you’d think I hadn’t fed her in weeks. She was starving, and the only thing that can satisfy that particular hunger is a sweet, adorable sub writhing in pain.

The more I hurt him, the more he squirmed, and the more I wanted to hurt him. When I reached down and felt that he was hard, it only made me want to hurt him more.

I pulled him closer and bit down hard on the back of his neck, making him gasp. I dragged my nails up and down his back, I bit him, I pinched him and dug my nails into his nipples and cock, and I loved the way he writhed in my lap.

An hour later than I intended, I finally let him up and grabbed my things to go. As he was walking me to my car, he said, “I don’t know how you pulled that off.”

“How I pulled what off?”

“We were just sitting on the couch. Watching TV. Innocently.”

I grinned. “There’s no such thing as innocent.”

I swear, y’all, I actually am capable of being completely vanilla and keeping my hands off of my toys when I need to. I can keep control and not paw at them like pieces of meat. I know this because I’ve been in public with my subs before. Because I’ve had subs at family gatherings before. Everything has been completely vanilla.

So I actually am capable of not treating Sounder like an object to amuse and entertain me.

I like to cuddle just as much as the next person. I love lying in bed with Kazander resting his head on my shoulder, his arms and legs wrapped around me. I love sitting on the couch with Sounder and pulling him close. I love when Steel curls up in my lap.

It feels awesome, and I love it.

But there is one thing I love decidedly more than cuddling. And that is sleeping.

Cuddle all you want. But when I’m ready to roll over and go to sleep, get the fuck off me and stay on your side of the bed.

Like seriously. Stay there. Sleep time and cuddle time do not overlap.

I’ve been told I can be downright mean in the middle of the night if someone comes up behind me to spoon while I’m asleep.

Which, by the way, I don’t remember doing. But multiple partners have told me that over the years, who have never met or spoken to each other, so I assume it’s true. And I have gotten better about that. Now, for whatever reason (maybe I’m just more aware of it) it’ll wake me up, and I’ll make sure I’m nice.

When Kazander has done that, I’ll wake up, put my hand over his, and let him spoon until I get hot or uncomfortable, then I’ll wake up again, push him off me, and go back to sleep. No meanness.

Also, waking me up in the morning can often require a hostage-negotiator level of tact and diplomacy. Although again, I’ve gotten better. I don’t throw my phone at whoever is trying to wake me up anymore usually.

It’s part of my neuroses. I like my sleep. And I am the polar opposite of a morning person. I once lamented to Sounder that I had to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn for something (ie, 8 am).

I like my sleep. And I like my space when I sleep.

Kazander has taken that a step further. Over the last few months, he’s started to sleep on the couch in the living room.

He’s not there every night, but definitely most. He maybe only sleeps in bed with me once a week or so.

And I love this arrangement. Particularly since, regardless of how big the bed is, he likes to sleep on-fucking-top of me.

It’s sweet, and I can’t be mad at him for wanting to be close, but ugh, get off me.

The couch thing didn’t start because of an argument or anything. We can blame it on the spawn, actually. She’s not a morning person, either (which makes me sublimely happy), but she does have the habit of coming into our room at 4 or 5 in the morning, wanting to watch TV or some water or whateverthefuckelse a 4-year-old can think of, and falling back asleep either in our bed or in her bean bag chair.

I can wake up, put on Peppa Pig (which I’m convinced was created by angry child-haters bent on getting back at all the people who reproduced. Like, a bunch of people sat in a room and said, “All these fucking obnoxious kids are everywhere. We hate them. How can we get revenge on those stupid assholes who created them? What is the absolute worst thing we could do to torture them for making all these fucking kids?” And the answer to that was Peppa Pig. I’m serious, it’s fucking brutal. You cannot convince me that show was created under any other circumstances).

What was I talking about?

So I can wake up, get her whatever she needs, and fall immediately back to sleep. Kazander cannot. When she comes in at 3am and wakes us up, he can’t get back to sleep. He’s up for the rest of the night.

So he took to sleeping on the couch, she leaves him alone, he gets a full night’s sleep, and I get the bed to myself and don’t have a 10,000 degree blanket wanting to get all up on me in the middle of the night.

Everyone wins.

And with nights like tonight, it’s actually kind of hot.

We were getting ready for bed, I was standing in the bedroom next to the bed, plugging my phone in, when he came up to hug me. I smacked his ass, and when he tried his typical move of pushing me off balance so I fall onto the bed, I responded by hip-tossing him onto the bed instead (which, due to a recent shoulder injury, is a move I’m hugely regretting right now. Not my brightest moment. But he wasn’t expecting it, and his reaction was hot, so it was worth it).

I held his arms down and bit his nipples and his ear, grinning when he gasped and squirmed.

Really, he squirms so pretty.

Funny how a knee placed strategically between his legs quiets that squirming, though.

He tried to adjust my grip or move my hand or something, I don’t know, so I let go of one wrist to roughly shove his head to the side and bite his neck, while rubbing his dick with my knee.

“You’re my bitch,” I whispered, gripping his balls hard enough to make him moan.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Say it.”

“I’m your bitch.”

“Good boy. Now get the fuck off my bed. Hurry up, or you’ll end up sleeping in a kennel in the closet.”

He whined once, then got off the bed, dropped to his knees, and kissed my ass like the good bitch he is before going back out to the living room for the night.

I’ve never been all that interested in D/s outside of the bedroom. I guess you’d say I’m a bottom, rather than a sub. But one of the biggest issues I have with a 24/7 D/s relationship, and the biggest reason I think it doesn’t work in the long run, is this idea of punishment.

You talk about respecting your subs, but how can you respect someone when you punish them? Isn’t that treating them like children? How does punishment and the ability to punish a sub for their mistakes fit into a healthy relationship?

Anonymous

Well…

First of all, define “long run.” Because I have a 6-year-long relationship and two year-ish-long relationships that say you’re full of shit, bro. Just because it may not work for you doesn’t mean it doesn’t work.

And I have to laugh whenever people claim that punishment only exists in D/s relationships. Because it’s absolutely not true.

I’m going to quote Steel here. You can see a sub’s point of view on it. Now he’s never been punished by me, but this is not his first D/s relationship, and he’s familiar with the practice.

Punishment is not an exclusively D/s thing. Regulated punishment is an exclusively D/s thing.

D/s relationships don’t just work, they work better (in my experience) than vanilla ones, because, in no small part, of those blue sentences up there.

In a D/s relationship, expectations are hammered out in agonizing detail, rules are set and agreed upon, and the dynamic is given quite a bit more attention than in your average conventional relationship. Partners are expected to talk about their needs/wants/desires/fantasies, sexual or otherwise. The level of communication required for a successful D/s relationship far surpasses that for a vanilla one.

There are things I know about the men I’ve owned for a year or less that my friends don’t know about the husbands they’ve been married to for a decade or more. And when you suggest they talk to their husbands, the answer is always the same. They’re too nervous or scared to say what they want. They don’t feel comfortable talking about sex. It’s too taboo.

So when you have a relationship where neither partner feels comfortable enough to talk, how can expectations be hashed out with any degree of clarity? And when one partner falls short of those unspoken expectations, there’s no telling what kind of behavior that will cause.

In my relationships, if a sub falls short of my expectations, they know exactly what will happen. I may be angry, sure, or disappointed. But there won’t be any cold shoulders, pouting, foot-stomping, or passive-aggressive remarks.

There will be a single punishment, with a clear beginning and a clear end, and then life goes on. There’s no need to bring it up again in two weeks or two months or two years down the line. And there’s no need for them to continue beating themselves up for a mistake. It’s handled, it’s over, and we both move on with no fighting or arguing.

Sometimes, of course, a discussion needs to be had about what caused the behavior, and if there are any adjustments that should be made to the relationship.

But if there’s a problem with the dynamic, or if a need isn’t being met, then fuck yes I’m going to punish them for acting out instead of talking to me about it long before it got to that point. I’m not an unreasonable person, and my subs are not children. They have a voice. And they’ve been with me long enough to know that I expect them to tell me when there’s a problem, and that they can expect me to listen patiently, and with compassion and understanding.

If I don’t know something’s wrong, I can’t fix it. And I take no responsibility for failing to fix a problem I didn’t know existed. They’re grown-ass men, and I expect them to have the balls to talk to me like an adult instead of acting out like children. Fuck yes, I will punish them for that 100% of the time.

Still, they have a voice, even in punishment. Not a loud one, but again, I’m not unreasonable. If there’s something wrong in a relationship, my goal is to find out what it is and fix it. But they know what I expect of them.

Now it’s important to note that Ihave expectations I need to meet, too. Every Dominant does. And my subs know that they can always talk to me about those expectations. I don’t pretend to be perfect. I know I’m going to fuck up at some point.

Should I fall short of those expectations, do they have the power to punish me? Hell no. And should there be a lengthy drive in silence, cold shoulders, or passive aggressive remarks, I know how to remind them of their place and get to the root of the problem.

So no, they cannot punish me. They aren’t even given the opportunity to do it by more “conventional” methods. Is that unfair? Perhaps, but it goes right back to the very first lesson my mentor taught me.

A submissive gives up control for freedom. A Dominant gives up freedom for control. I don’t have the freedom to lose my temper or get petty or do any of that bullshit. I’ve always got to be aware of that.

Do I fuck up sometimes? Sure. But I expect my boys to tell me when it happens and help me get back on track.

I actually fucked up just recently, with Kazander. We’ve been dealing with a shitload of problems with his family (and depending how things go when his parents get home, we might actually be in the market for a new place to live, it’s gotten that fucking bad) and up until recently, I’ve been handling it all.

Weeks of that wears a person down, and I’ll admit, I’d been grouchy all that evening. And I was unintentionally taking it out on Kazander, snapping at him for no real reason. Finally, he said:

“I know you’re stressed. But remember, you’re pissed at them, not at me.”

And things went back to normal after that. I realized that I was falling short of my expectations of myself, and I was falling short of Kazander’s expectations of me. And he deserves better than that. All three of my boys deserve better than that.

Had he been the one snapping at me, I would have spanked him or done some other punishment. He doesn’t have the power to do that to me, and he never will.

Is that unfair? Yes, I suppose so. But a D/s dynamic is an inherently unfair one. I call the shots. He doesn’t. Steel doesn’t. Sounder doesn’t. No man or woman I ever own will.

The most common question I’ve gotten the last couple millennia has been;

I’m a submissive man. How do I find a Domme?

Your first message should be friendly, polite, show who you are as a person, rather than a submissive, and show a desire to learn about the Dom/me as a person. I can’t speak for male Doms, but for Dommes, there is nothing more annoying than messages talking only about kink, even if written with the best intentions.

Here’s a common message I get, and something many men seem to think is acceptable.

Dear Mistress/Goddess/Whatever

I saw your profile and I love it. I’m totally into foot play, and have always wanted a sexy Domme like you to step on me. I would love blah blah blah (all about his fantasies, his desires, and what he wants from me, without a single detail about who he is outside of his kinks, and without remotely expressing a desire to get to know me outside of the kinks I can satisfy for him).

You’re so sexy and I hope to serve you.

Random well-meaning sub

And the sad thing is that the man who sends this actually thinks he’s doing something good. And these aren’t stupid or childish people. The most recent example I got of this was written by an educated, 42-year-old professional.

I’m assuming he’s not an idiot. Just like I assume almost every other man who writes that same kind of message isn’t an idiot. So why do men think this sort of thing is okay?

And this is so common, you’d be utterly shocked.

I feel bad for all those men who get so frustrated, just unable to understand what they’re doing wrong. So, since I’m in a good mood, I’ll explain it.

Here’s a secret for you: Dommes online are already on the defensive simply because of the messages we get on a daily basis. We see a message in our inbox from someone we don’t know and are expecting the same thing we always get: online catcalls. Or insults.

When she opens that messsage, she is expecting you to be a douche. She has already decided in her head that you’re a douche. It’s up to you to prove her wrong. And messages like the one above, while written with the best of intentions, do not prove her wrong.

Starting on literally my third day of being on Collarspace and Fetlife, I was firmly in that mindset. And without exception, every single message I receive from someone I don’t know, I expect to be either a one-sentence, please-let-me-suck-on-your-toes nonsense, or some crappy, long-winded, please-let-me-suck-on-your-toes nonsense. I’ve already decided that the author of the message is a tool, before opening the message.

Why? Because the author of every other message for the past month has been a tool. Your message is just the next one on the list.

Is it fair to you? Maybe not. But it’s your species that did it (and often you, in particular, helped contribute to it), so now it’s up to you to prove her wrong.

And I mean that. If you’ve ever written to me or approached me on either Fetlife or Collarspace, I want you to know that I thought you were a douche as soon as I saw the light blue name, or as soon as I saw the new message notification on Fet. I clicked on the message, thinking, “Alright, what does this douche want?”

In most cases, I was right, and you were, in fact, a douche.

In a few, I was proven very wrong.

In this case, I like being proven wrong. It’s a really good feeling, after days and weeks of online catcalls, to receive an intelligent message written by someone interested in me, rather than the fact that the color of my screen name is red and there’s the word Domina in front of my name.

And seriously guys, that’s pretty sad. When a Dominant woman opens a thoughtful, respectful message from a complete stranger, and it’s such a rare phenomenon that it literally makes her day, that’s just sad.

A Dominant woman should not be relieved to be seen as a human being by a submissive man. And the fact that 99% of submissive men online seem to think that this is okay astounds me. If you go to a munch, do you approach Dommes like that in person?

No. And do you know why you don’t approach Dommes like that in person?

Because you don’t go to munches.

And that is the single most annoying, irritating, frustrating, sometimes even infuriating thing about submissive men. You don’t go to munches. You don’t want anyone to know you’re a sub.

I will take a moment to acknowledge that occasionally, there may be a legitimate reason to need a level of discretion that a bar or restaurant may not be able to provide. For the other 97% of you, you’re pissing us the fuck off.

Why? Well, let’s answer that question with another question. Why won’t you go to a munch?

Whatever reason you may have (and honey, I’ve heard them all), it always boils down to one thing: You’re ashamed.

Pretty it up however you want. You’re ashamed of being submissive, and you’re ashamed of others knowing that you’re submissive. You just can’t bear to have your orientation publicly acknowledged. You can’t bear to have other men know that you’re submissive.

And you all can just fuck right off with that.

Would you like to know what that looks like from our point of view? Would you like to know what you’re saying to us by keeping all of this so goddamn deep in the closet, it might as well be fucking Narnia? I’ll break it down for you.

You’re ashamed of being submissive. Which means you’re ashamed of being the submissive partner in a D/s dynamic. Which means you’re ashamed of a Femdom D/s relationship. Which means you’re ashamed of us, and the dynamic we represent.

Which makes us feel unwanted, and undesirable.

That’s what you’re telling us by refusing to be open (among other kinky people) about your orientation. If you’re ashamed to tell a kinky person that you are submissive, and you’re ashamed to tell a kinky person that you submit to me, then you’re ashamed of me. And there’s nothing you can say to fix that, there are no words to pretty it up.

Now, does that mean I expect you to shout it from the rooftops? No, I don’t shout it from the rooftops. The vanilla folks don’t need to know. Not long ago, Sounder and I went out for drinks, and no one in the bar knew that he’s my sissy. Kazander and I go out, or interact with his family, all the time, and no one ever knows. Steel and I spent three full days together, and transitioned easily from the private dynamic to the public dynamic as needed, and no one knew I own him.

None of them are any less mine, or any less submissive when we’re out among the muggles. But no one knows it. Sure, Steel still wears his collar 24/7 when he’s with me, and Kazander couldn’t take his off if he wanted to (even I can’t take it off without breaking the ring that locks it together). But that’s the only clue, and no one notices. We’re just a regular couple.

I still have expectations of them, of course. They don’t stop being submissive to me when other people are around. But there is no shouting from rooftops.

Even among kinky people, I don’t really broadcast it. If I’m asked, I’ll tell people I’m a Domme, and if it comes up organically in conversation, then alright cool. But I don’t announce, “I’m a Dominant, and look at this guy with me! He’s submissive!”

There’s just no reason for it.

So no, you don’t have to broadcast it. But you can’t be ashamed of it, either. If you’re a submissive man, and you’re looking for a Domme, then grow a fucking pair of balls and go to a munch. Stop hiding behind your computer screen.

The first local group I joined here in town was 90% male Doms and female submissives. Including me, there were 6 Dommes (although one was a lesbian, and not interested in submissive men, so for purposes of this conversation, she doesn’t count).

Would you like to know how many submissive men there were on a regular basis?

Including Kazander, there was one.

One. And that one was Kazander, who was so freaked out, he damn near had a panic attack the first night he went, and he saw one of his coworkers there.

He, like many submissive men, was terrified of what could happen if it got out. But do you want to know what happened with his coworker?

Nothing.

They nodded to each other at the bar, and occasionally engaged in small talk if they were both waiting for drinks at the same time, but that was it. His coworker (a Dom) never outed him, or even mentioned it at work. And Kazander realized that there really isn’t anything to be afraid of, and never had a problem going with me after that.

Submissive men are like unicorns in that group. And when they show up, they’re popular as fuck. Even with Kazander being collared to me, he never wanted for female attention (hell, two of the Dommes have played with him).

How sad is it that a Dominant woman, highly respected in her community, does not have a submissive to serve her, because he doesn’t want to be seen in public as a submissive?

It’s goddamn infuriating. And I cannot speak for all Dommes, but no, I will never settle for a relationship like that. Hell yeah, I said it. And I’ll say it more directly.

If you’re ashamed of “coming out” as a submissive at a kink event, or a place like a munch or play party, then you’re not even remotely good enough for me. If you’re ashamed of being seen in public with me, or introducing me to friends/family/whatthefuckever, for fear that someone will find out, then you’re not even remotely good enough for me.

I’m not a kinky booty call that you keep carefully hidden and separated from every other aspect of your life. I’m better than that, I deserve better than that, and I won’t tolerate anything less. If you can’t be proud to have me in your life, then it’ll take me literally two days to replace you with someone who is proud.

Every Dominant woman deserves that much respect. But that’s what you’re saying to us by hiding behind your computer screen and trying to hide us away.

You’re telling us you’re ashamed of us by being ashamed of yourself, and you’re completely objectifying us by those shitty little copy-and-paste messages you send to every red name on the list, thinking that we’re not intelligent enough to realize what you’re doing.

You may be frustrated that you can’t find a Domme, that you can’t find a woman to take you seriously, but to us, you’re just another horny coward who can’t handle us.

When you can see a Domme as a person, show her the respect she deserves, and can be proud of the place she has in your life, you’ll find a Domme to serve.

Or you can continue half-assing your messages, hiding in your little hole, and wondering why the women you objectify won’t give you the time of day. Let me know how that works out for you.

I’m not a jealous person. It’s not my nature. That, and it kind of runs counterproductive to the whole polyamory thing.

In fact, jealousy does more than turn me off. It pisses me off, and nothing short of a long list of recent sexual assaults can turn me off to someone quicker than finding out they’re jealous or way too possessive. I’ve dealt with a jealous spouse before. I’ll never get into a relationship like that again.

And I don’t understand people who are okay with it. One of Kazander’s friends has a girlfriend who gets jealous if he comments on one of my Facebook pictures.

Are you serious?

Because somehow, just because I’m female, I must be trying to steal her boyfriend. And just ewww. Because while he may be hot, he’s homophobic, he has no sense of humor, and I’m 84% sure he’s on steroids.

Girl, he’s all yours. Trust me on that.

So jealousy isn’t my thing.

However…

I’m human. I’m not perfect, and I’m not immune to those occasional (short-lived) spikes of jealousy.

And there’s nothing wrong with those little spikes. As Steel said, “Who wants to be owned but not valued?”

As long as they stay those occasional little spikes, and don’t turn into full-on jealousy, it’s fine. Even flattering.

I’ve felt them before. And it’s expected, really. My boys are awesome. Of course other people notice. Of course other people entertain fantasies about them.

The first time I felt that stab of jealousy with one of my boys was when I found out that Kazander’s boss has a crush on him. Although again, it didn’t last long. And her feelings for him actually worked out to our advantage in a huge way.

Hell, I even felt it when Chevy mentioned that he had a crush on Kazander (particularly when he wears those loose gym shorts during the summer… For all the crap I give Kazander with small-penis humiliation, he’s not small. Chevy noticed). And I’ve actively worked to make that happen. Because it’s hot.

I haven’t experienced it with Sounder yet, but I’m sure I will. He’s fucking hot, he’s smart as hell, and he’s got a fantastically sarcastic, dry sense of humor (his humor is a big part of what initially got my attention in the first place). I have no doubt that at least one woman he interacts with on a regular basis fantasizes about him. Although, the things the average vanilla woman may fantasize about doing with him are…. very different than the things I do with him.

Like how I fucked him with a big dildo and tied his hands above his head and clipped like a hundred (I may be exaggerating slightly) clothespins on his dick and balls last night. I’m pretty sure the average vanilla woman’s mind doesn’t go there when she imagines him without his clothes on.

Just recently, I felt it with Steel.

And again, it was expected. I’m actually surprised that it took this long to happen. I’ve been with Steel damn near a year, now.

And he’s sexy, he’s got the most expressive eyes I’ve ever seen, he’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, and he’s funny as hell.

He also looks damn good sprawled across me while I finger him, or up on all fours while I spank him and fuck him, or curled up in my lap while I absently play with his collar and watch TV.

Or straddling me, his arms wrapped around me, clinging to me, his face buried against my neck, gasping and whimpering while I tease and hurt him, shoving my precum-soaked fingers into his mouth when the constant stream of slutty begging goes from being adorable to being annoying, pinning him down and grinning as he whines while I milk him…

What was I talking about?

So it’s not surprising that another Domme took notice. And it’s not surprising that she has repeatedly expressed her attraction to him, despite knowing that he’s owned and collared.

Of course she’s attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be?

Of course she imagines using him. He’s an insatiable, greedy bitch with a goddamn sexy mind.

Of course she sees in him everything that made me fall for him in the first place. This doesn’t come as a surprise. I’d be surprised if she’s the only one.

And no, it doesn’t make me jealous. Because at the end of the day, he’s loyal, he’s faithful, he loves me, and he’s mine.

So yesterday I mentioned that my eventual goal in all my D/s relationships is to break my subs.

And I’ve mentioned it before, but have avoided expanding on it for a number of reasons.

First of all, every damn aspect of it is difficult to explain. Even describing what I mean by the term “break” is complicated.

Still, I do love a challenge, and it’s worth a try.

So what do I mean by “breaking” someone?

Well…

It really is complicated. And so much of it is mental. And abstract. And when I do it, it’s very exact, and deliberate, and real. But trying to describe it requires more metaphor than even I’m a fan of.

The easiest (and most over-simplified) answer is to break through the walls he has up around himself. All of them.

And that sounds simple. But in reality, it is extremely profound, extremely intense, and extremely complex. I will be seeing parts of his mind that no one has ever seen before, parts of his mind that he never thought he’d let anyone see.

Another answer is that I’m breaking him down. Which sounds cruel, but it’s not. While it is always uncomfortable for the boy I’m doing it to, he always knows that he’s safe, he’s loved, and I won’t harm him.

But yes, I’m breaking apart everything he thinks he knows about himself, often shattering his perception of himself and even his very reality (depending on the boy, of course). I’m tearing down all his defenses and leaving him completely exposed, vulnerable in a way he’s never experienced before.

I once spoke to a very troubled young man who believed that I couldn’t do that with him. He gave an incredibly beautiful description of his mind, likening it to a forest. You first enter the forest, and it’s all pleasant. Birds are singing, flowers are blooming, and the sun is shining through the trees.

But the farther you go, the denser and darker it gets. The trees start looking stunted. Odd. Gnarled. There are no birds singing, just an eerie silence. If someone starts to go deeper, the forest will lead them in circles, will trick them, anything the keep them out. The wind picks up, it starts to rain, it’s time to leave. He mentioned that this was the point most people want to leave, anyway.

But a very few, who have gotten that far, want to go further. They step off the path he’s laid for them, and want to go farther. He can describe it so much better than I can, so I’ll use his words.

The trees are giant here, there is no sun and the trees aren’t a variety that one could ever recognize. It’s always raining and it is cold. Inhuman sounds are carried on the wind which bring warning to trespassers. Rotted fallen logs try to sprain ankles, stinging nettles and thorns scrape at skin and hold people in place. Large shadows can be seen scurrying just out of sight. The massive trees swing in the wind and threaten to tumble down at any second. A heavy fog begins to form and the ground becomes unstable. Almost no-one comes here and no-one has ever gone farther. What’s beyond?

The forest opens up onto a marshland. Dead bleached trees reach out of the mud and the rotting corpses of animals float amongst them. The smell is putrid, the fog is thick. There is no end, or beginning. The mud is deep and hard to traverse. It’s not scary like the forest before. It’s silent and eerie if not fairly sad. If, somehow someone walked long enough they would find a small island ringed with trees. On it they would find a scared little boy huddled inside a dilapidated barn.

I have met that little boy so many times. Everyone is different, but that scared, lonely little boy has been inside quite a few of my subs. He exists in more than one of my current boys.

To me, in all the times I’ve broken boys, it always felt more like a labyrinth, that will change and lead people around in circles, with walls that will spring up out of nowhere and lead people to dead ends.And when I get deeper, I can sense that urgency in them as they throw those walls up, as the maze changes and gets darker, trying to keep me out, trying to lead me away from the center.I know them, though, and I know how to navigate it.And on very rare occasions, when I’ve got something specific I’m working toward, or have just run out of patience, I know how to completely tear down those walls, and force my way through.

I’ve explored all three of my boys to different levels. With Kazander, I’ve found that little boy. And it wasn’t easy. People always respond differently when you go that far into their minds, when they realize just how much you know, and just how vulnerable they are to you.

His reaction when I started digging deeper than what he was comfortable with was always anger, and open hostility. That had always been his defense mechanism, his way of keeping people away, because he’d always been so intimidating to everyone around him. It scared people off.

But it didn’t scare me. Anger doesn’t intimidate me to begin with, and more than that, I knew where his anger was coming from, and I saw it for what it was. So I let him scream and rage and hurl his insults and throw his tantrums, and I used what I knew of him to push my way through. And the deeper I got, the more he realized he couldn’t stop me, the more desperate he became. There was a lot there that he’d kept hidden. A lot that he never intended anyone to see.

And I didn’t give him much of a choice, anyway.

I’ve touched Steel’s mind a bit, although I haven’t gone deep enough to really trigger his defense mechanisms yet. He may be a bit more of a challenge, though, despite the fact that he wants to be broken, that he aches for it. Because at some point, you really just can’t control it. Your mind recoils, trying to protect itself.

And while Kazander’s anger and hostility were direct, Steel is quieter, and much more subtle. He can be a master manipulator when he wants to be, and has become quite good at leading people away from the truth. Or making them believe they’ve seen the truth, when they haven’t. He’s never done that with me, though, even with the digging I’ve done so far.

I’m impressed, really. He’s kept himself open to me, even when it made him uncomfortable, even when it scared him. Even when he thought I was judging him for his past. But once I really start digging, he may not be able to control it. That will be his instinct. And it will be harder to navigate than the directness of Kazander’s hostility.

But I know him, I know his triggers, I know how to throw him off balance, and I know how to pin him down. He knows he can’t hide from me for long, and he doesn’t want to, anyway. He’s the most willing boy I’ve ever come across, and that will definitely help.

Sounder is next. And from what I’ve seen so far, his instinct is to pull away. He’s got a very strong fight-or-flight instinct, and neither fight nor flight will be pretty. Once, I pressured him into letting me see him when he really, really wanted to be left alone. And he finally relented, but I could feel his tension and anxiety through the phone. When I got there, as soon as I saw his face, his body language, I knew better than to push him. Not then, not yet. And that wasn’t my goal that night, anyway. I didn’t go over there to push him. I had two goals that night, one he knows about, and one he doesn’t. And I achieved them both.

He may be a bit of a challenge, as well. Ideally, I’m going to want to avoid triggering the fight-or-flight altogether, but the closer I get to him, the more I’m thinking I might need some of that fight. I’ve used hostility as a tool before, but I had the opportunity to really master the skill with Kazander. I can certainly use it to my advantage with Sounder.

Which, understandably, has him freaked out. He knows his patterns, he knows his history, and he knows what’s happened in the past when people have pushed him too far. It gets to the point that he just can’t control it. His subconscious takes over, and defends itself. He’s extremely wary of being pushed past what he’s comfortable with.

So I’ll need to be careful.

Which brings me to how I go about breaking someone. And it’s a tough thing to answer. I mean, I’m sure I’ve made it clear at this point that it involves getting to the core of someone’s mind, laying them out, completely vulnerable, completely exposed, unable to hide, with everything out in the open.

That process is more difficult with some than with others, but it’s always complex, always complicated, always tailored exclusively to the sub I’m dealing with.

People I’ve broken have asked how I did it, and I’ve never really had an answer. Part of that is because there’s a hell of a lot going on, all at once, and I’m assessing and reassessing a situation a thousand times a second, tweaking what I need to do, what I need to say, how I need to act. Sometimes, I can temporarily become someone completely different, if that’s what it takes.

Because once you get that deep into someone’s mind, it’s like navigating a minefield. No one else has ever been that deep in their minds, and I don’t care who you are, that’s fucking terrifying, to let someone else in that deeply. They’re afraid, they’re defensive, they’re reluctant, and they’re unsure of themselves, unsure of what I’ll think of them once I’ve seen that part of them, and unsure of what I’ll do with that level of control, that level of vulnerability.

It’s something that needs to be navigated very carefully, and I need to have an extensive understanding of them to begin with. There are certain things I need, certain pieces of a puzzle that becomes the map I use to find my way. I usually need those pieces before I start digging, but once, just getting one of those pieces landed me much deeper in a boy’s mind than either of us expected, and I had to take great care not to make a wrong move.

He had PTSD and was manic-depressive, though, so his mind worked a little differently than the others I’d explored. And extra caution had to be used to make sure I didn’t accidentally hit one of his triggers for the PTSD (before it was all said and done, I did purposefully hit one of his triggers, but he knew about it and agreed to it long before we took that step. It was the day I broke him that I needed to push him that far, and he knew for months that it was coming, and knew as soon as I got there that night what was going to happen).

I was lucky, though. He had a service dog that was specifically trained to sense when he was about to “lose himself,” as he called it, and that dog became a big part of my map. I always left the bedroom door open so she could come running if I started getting too close. And before long, I learned his signals, and needed her less and less (it wasn’t always obvious, he internalized a lot of it, and combine that with one of his manic episodes, and shit got complicated, quick. I had to learn fast).

So I need to get to the deepest part of his mind. I need to lay him out, completely vulnerable, exposed, and open. But that’s not all that’s involved. And the next step completely, 100% depends on the boy, so it’s difficult to describe.

Sometimes, as was the case with Kazander, I need to pull up his weaknesses, his demons, the skeletons in his closet, and confront him with them. Sometimes in a somewhat-cruel, merciless way. Sometimes I need to physically and mentally overwhelm him, then use a specific word or act to push him over the edge. Sometimes I need to push him to the point of exhaustion, and use either pain or humiliation (or both) to make him crumble.

I mean, the options are endless. And I may have a sneaking suspicion of which tactic I’ll need to use, but the truth of the matter is that I don’t know for sure until I have him at that point. It’s a part of his mind even he didn’t know existed, so there’s no way to predict it with 100% accuracy.

And the end result is always the same. He’s brought low, he’s humiliated, he’s embarrassed, he’s made weak, and small, and defenseless. For some, it’s the first time in their adult lives that they’ve been made to openly cry. The last of the walls are destroyed, and I finally find that scared little boy.

But I’m not done, once I get there. For some, it doesn’t take much more than that. They’ve just been fighting too long, and they’re tired. The fight has left them, and they’ve given up trying to keep me out. They want to give in.

Others, though, require more. Because they can rebuild those walls just as fast as I can tear them down. Once I have them at their most vulnerable, I need to keep pushing.

Gently, mind you. Everything must be gentle at this point. The humiliation ends, the brutal sadism ends, the rough treatment and abuse end. Things slow down, things get quieter, things get softer.

And again, what happens next depends completely on the boy. Sometimes I’ll lie him down on his stomach with me on top of him, or on his side with me lying behind him, and hold him close as I slowly, gently fuck him, whispering that he’s loved, he’s safe, and I’m proud of him.

Sometimes I’ll tie him up in one way or another and pull him into my lap, and finger him. Sometimes I’ll let him curl up around my body while I sound him. Sometimes I’ll use mild to moderate pain (like clothespins on the nipples, etc) while he clings to me.

Again, options are endless. But it’s always gentle, always quiet, always slow, and always involves lots of body contact and lots of physical closeness. In that moment, he needs lots of reassurance. In that moment, the strong, grown man is gone. In that moment, he is that little boy. Everything else falls away. It’s just him, and me, and the reality I’ve created for him.

Once that happens, once he’s at his lowest, it’s time to start building him back up.

Which, finally, brings me to why.

Why do I bother going through all that? Why do I make him endure it?

Lots of reasons. First and foremost, because I want to. It’s fun. It indulges the sadist in me while still being positive and constructive. I can use it to build, rather than destroy. I can hurt him without harming him. More than that, I can hurt him while healing him.

Secondly, the human mind fascinates me, and I’ve gotten very good at exploring it, manipulating it, and getting to the core of it. However, because people aren’t comfortable with their minds being probed that deeply, I rarely get the chance to do it, unless I’m breaking someone. It gives me an opportunity to use those skills, it gives me a new playground, a new toy to play with.

And thirdly, much of D/s for me is about growth. Forever moving forward. No stagnation. And with so much of my brand of D/s being mental, there simply comes a point where I just can’t go any farther, I can’t take him any deeper, without destroying those walls and getting through. Because it’s human nature to keep people out.

Everyone, regardless of their past, or whether or not they have demons, is uncomfortable being explored that deeply. Everyone tries to keep people out. Because, whether we admit it or not, we simply don’t trust others with that.

All three of my boys have more reasons than most to be uncomfortable with it. Trusting me with their bodies is easy. Trusting me with their minds is something else entirely.

But without breaking those walls down, I’m limited. There’s only so much I can do, so far I can go. Things get stagnant. Things go stale.

By breaking him, by tearing down all that pretense, all those defenses, it opens up so many new doors. So many new opportunities. A whole new level of intensity.

And it’s about personal growth, too. We’re never done growing, learning, improving. That’s true for me, and it’s true for my boys. By breaking through all his defenses, I can lay out his demons for him, and show him that they have no power over him. Things are always less frightening when they’re pulled out into the light.

So I can build him back up, stronger than he was before. More at peace than he was before. I can show him how to let go of anger, how to live with their past.

And how do I know how to do this? How do I know the effect it’ll have?

Because it was done to me. By a vanilla man. Albeit far more clumsily than my own methods, and he had virtually no grasp of what he was doing, but he opened the door for me. He had only his wisdom, his experience, and his love and affection for me to guide him. And it was rough. I was angry then.

And as intimidating as Kazander’s temper is known to be, the one and only time I ever lost control in the last six years, ever lost my temper on him (it was just a couple months ago, actually), freaked him out. There was no shouting, I have no need to get loud like he does. But I’ll never forget the look on his face, the way he stepped back, his own anger falling away as he saw a glimpse of what I’m capable of.

I’m grateful for that, though. Seeing his expression reminded me what I’m capable of, and why I work so hard to keep control. Seeing that I’d scared him helped me clamp it back down immediately.

I didn’t have that control back then. And my anger combined with his clumsiness made the process rough, and is a big part of the reason why the relationship didn’t succeed. But that was twelve years ago. I’ve learned a lot since then. And I’ve mastered the process he showed me. I took what he did and I improved it. Exponentially. I made it more effective, more efficient, more constructive. More precise.

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What this blog is

This is an 18+ blog about my day-to-day life as a Domina, wife, mother, and all that other crap. A chronicle of me. While this blog focuses primarily on the D/s aspect of my life and my relationships with Kazander, Steel, and Sounder, it is not exclusive to that subject, and I might talk about my kid, or my annoying mother, or my sister's pet cat, or whatever the hell I feel like talking about.

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Sounder’s Blog: soundslikejesseblog

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As most of you have already read, Domina Jen and I recently “experimented” with hypnosis. I say “experimented” both with actual, and air quotes, out of a natural skepticism of hypnosis. Who among us wouldn’t be skeptical? However, when Domina Jen gets something in her mind that she finds intriguing there’s little that can be […]

Steel is no longer my sub, but his blog is still wonderful, and worth reading.

Steel’s Blog: Grind_'n'_Throb

It begins over a friendly disagreement, during which you smile, roll your eyes, and say, “Go fuck yourself.”

“But, Ma’am, that’s physically impossible.”

You smirk and ask how certain I am of this. On a roll, I launch into a smug and tangential rant about the anatomical impossibility of an individual’s being capable of fucking oneself. Your response is to merely shrug, smile, and make a cryptic statement:

“Don’t be so sure…”

Later that evening, you tell me bedtime will be early, an hour early to be exact. The amused look on your face says it would be in my best interests not to argue.

Sometimes I fall into a vicious cycle where I’m mentally and emotionally frustrated and cannot manage to channel that energy into productive avenues. In the old days, this would lead to drinking or drugs, but I don’t do that anymore. Instead, I try to go about my day, generally fail to complete mundane tasks and end up feeling ‘stuck’ – this progresses into a cycle of mild depression, feelings of inertia, guilt over said inertia, and then on and on it goes until something snaps me out of it.

It feels like I’m seated in a car stuck in neutral yet compelled to rev the engine until it screams.

When did I last curl up in her lap? It’s been so long, I cannot recall. Despite numbered boxcars on the calendar and the disinterested faces of clocks, a concrete memory eludes me. Time, location, and date, they’re merely three dimensions after all.